by Riley Tune
The next text from Jen came through and she said her room was near a gym. This made sense. I remembered hearing Flex tell Zeva her room was near a gym, too.
Eventually, after a few wrong turns, and narrowly dodging being seen, I found the gym. I would have likely missed it, had I not heard the loud grunts coming from inside of it. I slowly walked around the corner and looked inside at the source of the noise.
The room was smaller than a normal college level, or franchise gym. Stretching about the size of a two- bedroom apartment, it was still pretty large. One section had some weights, and cardio equipment, while the other side had a literal ring with several dummies and punching bags that extended from the roof.
The overpowering chill in the room was a strong indicator of who I would find there. Sure enough, with her headphones in her ears, Zeva was going full blown amazon warrior on the punching bags. Despite the chill she was giving off in the room, she was still sweating. She had on a loose fitting white Imperial Lords tee shirt, and some mesh workout shorts that showed off her toned legs.
Seeing her here, sweating, and working out made me feel like I was being a creep of some sort. I never really saw Zeva train before. Heck, I barely saw her use her powers. I knew of her optic powers, but how often did a person really need enhanced or x-ray vision? Her Ice powers however, were on full display now, and was as beautiful as she was.
She was so fast as she delivered several attacks to the bags around her. Attacks that seemed to be almost fluid in motion. She would land several punches, and then switch to her ice powers, one bag had large shards of ice impaling it, which caused sand to fall to the floor into a puddle that was forming from the melting shards. The next bag she attacked, ended up completely frozen and encased in ice. Then once she was done, she sprinted, to the last dummy in the ring, this one was made out of wood. It was one of those dummies you see a lot in the kung fu movies.
As she ran, her fist and arms became encased in ice. It almost looked like a form of armour, and she sent blow after blow at the wooden dummy, causing it to splinter and crack. Then she suddenly stopped, and the ice on her melted, leaving a large puddle near her feet.
Breathing hard, she walked over to a large pink gym bag, and grabbed her towel. Noticing the temperature change in the room, I clapped my hands loudly and caused her to jump as she looked in my direction. She glared at me.
“You’re pretty good,” I said as I slowly walked towards the ring. “You want to fight me next too?” she snapped. “Two Greene’s in one day?” I shook my head. “It’s not like that. I would apologize, but your brother is an ass.” She was still breathing heavily, and I tried to not look at her chest moving up and down, she slowly shook her head. “Maybe, but he is still my brother.”
I shrugged. “We, you and I, I mean, are still partners now so, let's just leave that behind us.” She twisted her mouth some as she thought. “Sorry for what he said. About your parents and all.” I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged again. “Like I said, he’s an ass.”
She dried herself off under her shirt, with her towel, I felt like I enjoyed this way more than I should have. Then she reached inside her pink bag and pulled out a large sweatshirt. She put that on and then removed some sweat pants from her bag, and put those on as well. “Where are you going?” she asked as she looked at me.
“Looking for Jen’s room. We’re going to the Young Pyro concert.” Her eyes got wide. “Is that tonight?” I shook my head with a smile. “You like Young Pyro?” I asked her. She didn’t say anything. Instead she put her earbuds to my ear and allowed me to hear the music. As I suspected from the gesture, the music playing was Young Pyro.
“Okay, I’m impressed with your taste in music.” I said. “She pointed to a door literally across from the gym. “That’s my door, and Jen is the next door down.” I nodded and began to backup and turn around to head to Jen’s door.
“Can I come?” I heard her ask as I was almost out of the gym. I formed a smile and then released it before I turned around. “To the concert?” I asked. “Zeva, are you asking me out on a date?” “Don’t be a creeper,” she said. She may have said that, but I did see a hint of a smile.
“It’s not a date. It’s three groupmates going to a concert.” I checked my phone. We don’t have much time for you to get ready.” Zeva stretched out her arms, and shrugged. “I’ll wear this. It’s not like I’m going to impress people anyway.” I grimaced. “You, don’t want to shower or anything?”
She sniffed under her arm, and then shook her head as she shrugged. I thought it over. I could still fly three people there, but not as fast, so we would be on a time crunch.
“Sure, I don’t mind if you come, and you and Jen seem to be getting along better, so she will be cool with it I’m sure.” Zeva smiled, and ran ahead of me, opened her door, slung her pink bag inside, and then shut the door again. “All set.” she said.
I knocked on Jen’s door, and instantly it opened up and she placed a finger to her lips. “How in Atlas are we gonna sneak out with you knocking on doors like the damn police?” Jen said as she came out.
She had on some blue jeans and a black Young Pyro shirt. Her hair was down, and of course, she had on a ball cap that matched her shirt. Both her pants and shirt were a little too tight for my liking. I didn’t say anything, but made a mental note to keep an eye on her, and the guys, or girls, she spoke to at the concert.
Jen gently closed the door behind her. “We aren’t sneaking out.” Zeva said. Jen looked at Zeva, and then back to me.” She wanted to come.” I replied. “I figured you would be okay with it.’ “I am,” Jen said. “But can you get us all there?”
Before I could even answer, I heard another voice behind us. “What’s going on?” I turned and saw Picasso standing there in front of us. He had on the same clothes from earlier when I meet him in the hall and, as before, he had his sketch pad in his hand.
Jen sighed. “Is this the busiest hall in the base or something?” We all looked at each other, then back to Picasso. He looked at us all with his brow raised. I could have told him a lie, but something inside me decided to be honest with him.
“We’re going to a concert.” Then something else inside me continued to push me to say something I didn’t really agree with, but it felt like it was only right. “You, should come with us.” I didn’t even have to look at them. I could feel Jen and Zeva shooting glares at me so strong that for a second I thought they both had an Impact Blast aimed at me.
His hand tightened around his sketch pad. “Um. Okay.” We all looked at him in surprise. “Really?” I questioned. “You want to go?” He shrugged. “Not really. But I have been thinking about our conversation earlier. Maybe I do need to get out some. Lose that serial killer vibe you said I have.” He avoided our eyes as he said the last part.
“You told him he had a what?” Zeva asked. “Ignore that part,” I answered quickly. “Plus,” Picasso said. “Jen is my partner now. If she is going then, I’m going too.” I looked at Jen and then back to Picasso. This was an odd plot twist if ever there was one. For some reason, if we did get in trouble, maybe having the son of Mr. Impervious in our company, would reduce the damage. That’s finding the gray zone at its finest.
“Okay, only problem now, I can’t fly us all there. We would be hovering at best.” I said out loud. “I can drive.” Picasso slowly said. “You have a car?” Zeva asked. He shook his head but avoided her eyes too, and stepped back from her as she asked the question. “Several. I just never use them. I never leave. I collect them more as a hobby.”
His finger began to glow, and we all stepped back. Once again, he drew a large rectangle in the middle of the hall. Suddenly, before us, was a single door in the hallway. “Damn,” Jen said as Zeva and I looked around the door.
“It’s like magic, right?” I said out loud. Picasso opened the door, and even though it should have been just the hall behind it, what we saw was clearly a garage. “Wow,” Zeva said
as she stepped through. We all followed her, and Picasso shut the door behind us, and it faded away.
Now we were standing in a large, and I mean large, garage. It was easily holding over two dozen cars of all shapes, sizes, colors, and models. Picasso walked slowly to a black Audi sedan, and opened the door to the driver seat, while pressing a square remote on some keys.
As we all piled in, a garage door opened up. Jen tried to sit in the back with Zeva, but I stopped her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at me, as she walked around the car to the front seat. “It’s downtown,” I said to Picasso as I shut the door to the back seat and buckled up. “Okay,” he replied as he put both hands on the wheel.
“Wait,” Jen said as we slowly pulled out. “If you never leave, how do you know how to drive?” There was silence in the car. “Picasso,” I said. “I really don’t know how to drive exactly.” Zeva and I exchanged glances at each other. Jen sighed and took off her seatbelt, and got out the car.
“I’ll drive,” she said as she walked around the car. Picasso looked at her, and then got out and let her behind the wheel. She slid her seat up some, and once Picasso was in, she slowly drove out the garage.
At that very moment, fireworks began to dance in the sky. Even from here, on the edge of town, we could hear the bangs as the many colors caused the skyline to glow. “That’s the warm up for the crowd. Show should start in fifteen minutes or so.” I said.
Jen must have heard this and assumed I meant, get us there as fast as you can, because at that moment she slammed her foot to the ground causing the tires to screech as she pushed the Audi to its limits and zoomed in the direction of the fireworks, and Young Pyro himself.
CHAPTER 16
OLD FRIENDS...KIND OF
I
opened the back door of Picasso’s Audi and never was I so happy to be alive. I had never driven with Jen before. Never really had to, because I could fly. It never dawned on me to wonder how she got around when I wasn’t there to be her personal flying escort. Apparently, she had learned to drive like she was evading the police.
Picasso, and Zeva piled out of the car too. Picasso was breathing hard from fear, and Zeva was actually leaning on the car with her eyes still wide. “Where in Atlas’s name did you learn to drive, Jen?” I asked her.
“I took a class in the academy.” she replied casually as she shut the driver side door, and adjusted her clothes. “A class? As in one?” I asked. “And they taught you to drive like that?” Zeva added. “I thought I was going to hurl between all the dodging and sudden stops, followed by the sudden acceleration.”
Jen shook her head and laughed. “Nah. Accelerated and Angry taught me that.” I held my hand up. “Wait. Accelerated and Angry? You mean the movie series about street racers turned bank robbers?” Jen gave me a wink and made a pointed gun with her hand. “You know it. Now come on let’s go. Plus, it’s not like we didn’t make it safely.”
Picasso and Zeva looked at each other with brows raised. Jen had a point, albeit a small one. She did get us here in record time. Less than ten minutes in fact. We had to park in a parking garage downtown, then walk to the amphitheatre where the concert was going on.
There were legions of people around us. I took a few deep breaths and prepared myself to walk through the tight crowd. My claustrophobia, was bad in crowds, but not to the same degree as when I was inside my force field and it was too small. The people around were at least constantly moving, so that helped. If things got really bad, I also had the strength to push them aside, or the ability to just fly up and get some breathing room.
Every person I could see was sporting Young Pyro clothing in some form or fashion. Even if you didn’t have his clothing you could purchase it at several of the booths leading up to the venue.
As we made our way from the parking garage and up the street, Picasso gripped one hand around his sketch book, and the next hand disappeared in his pocket. He removed a pencil and twirled it in his fingers, and seemed to observe everything around him. His gaze would stop on certain people longer than others, but he never tripped or stumbled as we walked.
We lost Jen for a moment as she stopped at a concession stand to grab a pretzel, but she returned just as fast as she was gone. “These damn pretzels are orgasmic,” Jen said as she took another bite. “Noted,” I replied as I decide to make sure I grabbed one before we left the concert. “I do enjoy a good orgasm,” I said. I unintentionally looked at Zeva when I said this, and quickly jerked my head away. “Such a damn perv,” Jen added as she took another bite of her pretzel, and rolled her eyes and smiled.
Zeva was now walking in front of me, and she began to move a little to the loud bass that suddenly began to fill the air. My eyes followed her hips back and forth as she danced and walked at the same time. I could feel myself smile as I inadvertently licked my lips. Maybe she enjoyed the orgasm joke more than I thought.
I felt a strong nudge in my side. “What?” I said as I looked at Jen who was putting a large chunk of pretzel in her mouth. She grinned and raised her brows repeatable. “You like her,” she said. I was a statement, not a question. Thankfully, because of the loud music around us, Zeva couldn’t hear her. I made a gesture with my thumb and index finger to show that I agreed with Jen only a little. She laughed, then caught up with Zeva.
More fireworks went off, and we could finally see the amphitheatre ahead in our view.
“This is it,” I said loudly as we got closer. People around us were camped out on street corners in lawn chairs. They didn’t care to see Young Pyro, they just wanted music, food, and beer, but not me. Not us. I wasn’t a groupie by any means, but it was Young Pyro. I had to see him. A thought ran through my head, and I realized that is exactly what a groupie sounds like.
“I think we are on the wrong side.” Picasso said as we stopped and looked at the stage. For a guy who didn’t leave the base, he was handling everything very well, despite it being new to him. From where we stood, we were on the side of the amphitheatre. We could totally see the concert, and could hear it well, we just wouldn’t be able to see Young Pyro himself.
“Screw this, we have to get in front. I can’t see him from here,” Zeva said. I was thankful that she voiced what I was thinking. This way, it didn’t look like I just had to see Young Pyro. “I agree,” I replied. “We came here, and survived Jen’s driving, may as well be able to see the performance.”
I lead the way around the side of the amphitheatre as we broke through the crowd. It would have been easier to make a large force field around the four of us, and then just push people out of the way as we moved. Instead, we formed a line and continued on. Me in the front, Jen and Zeva in the middle, and Picasso bringing up the rear.
The base continued but the fireworks were slowing down. Just as I could see a portion of the front I heard a booming voice roar over the crowd. “Make room, make room.” We all turned around and saw several men the size of trees walking towards us in a small circle. The lead man who was talking, was the largest of the group. Standing at just under seven feet tall, with a beard that stretched down to his chest, and muscle that even Flex would envy. His skin was pale and his head was bald. Just like the other half a dozen men with him, he had on black slacks with a tight black shirt that had the word security printed on it in white.
One random person from the crowd ran up to the security guard screaming. A skinny guy with curly red hair. “Young Pyro. Young Pyro.” He had his phone out and was trying to snap a picture between the massive security detail. He failed.
Before he could even take a picture, his phone was snatched by one guard and thrown on the ground. The next guard, the one who was talking with the massive beard, used both hands and grabbed the young man. As he lifted him in the air, his large arms seemed to want to explode from his security shirt. The fan was tossed back into the crowd with ease, and I couldn’t help but laugh as we watched.
“Damnit, I said move. Back up.” The bearded man scre
amed again. We all did so and the security team moved in front of us. I squinted and was surprised to see that it was in fact Young Pyro in the middle of these man mountains.
It was hard to see him but it looked like he was eating a pretzel too. He came all the way through this crowd for a pretzel? Must have been a damned good pretzel like Jen said. Still why risk the harm from a stampede of fans? Then again, he was an extremely powerful Icon himself, that as a bonus, had his own security detail. He could handle himself.
Downside was, he couldn’t just go around using his powers on fans that got out of line. Doing that would result in legal issue, and make him damn near a villain. So, despite being a powerhouse, he had to have the security detail.
As they moved by, Zeva and Jen began screaming his name, too. They were in full fan mode now. Picasso, however, said nothing. He just looked. Then, it happened. I almost screamed in excitement, and was ashamed of myself instantly. Young Pyro looked our way. He looked at me. Young Pyro himself, looked at me. Chunk of pretzel in hand, he looked directly at me, and then he said something. My heart felt like it was going to explode from my chest.
His moving guard escort stopped and created a hole in their circle. There he was. A slender black kid with thick hair and a five o'clock shadow on his face. He had on a large striped shirt, blue jeans, and wheat colored boots.
He was older than me by a few years, but I looked like his elder. Why had he stopped? Was it Jen? Or Zeva? Maybe he was into guys, and it was me. Guys weren’t my thing, but still how cool would it be if Young Pyro was feeling me. It sounds bad I know, but it’s Young Pyro.
He shoved the rest of his pretzel in his mouth and chewed quickly. As he did so, he laughed and clapped his hands together. The crowd went nuts as they saw him move.
His security was earning their pay now, as they kept people away. He stepped closer and leaned in as he squinted. “Picasso? Shit, that is you.” We all turned to look at Picasso. “Hey Jason.” Picasso said casually. As if he wasn’t talking to one of the biggest music stars in the world.